


Metal and Stone

by Mntsnflrs



Series: Courts [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Blood and Violence, Heavy Themes, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Mind Games, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24595543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mntsnflrs/pseuds/Mntsnflrs
Summary: “There must be some good people in the palace.”“There are,” Johnny agreed. “The problem being that they are vastly outweighed by the bad.”“And when Mark is king?” Jaehyun asked. The clouds ahead spoke of summer rain, but Johnny could hear Mark’s laughter still, see his bright smile. “What will happen when Mark is crowned?”“War, I think,” Johnny said. “Which is why we strengthen him here. The closer he is to humanity now, the more of it he will retain when he is crowned.”
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Series: Courts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777846
Comments: 39
Kudos: 265





	Metal and Stone

**Author's Note:**

> TW for some bad themes in this fic - while none of it is explicit I want to give everyone a fair warning - if you think anything needs to be tagged please let me know! xo

By the time Doyoung had arrived at the court, there were already rumours enough to fill a library. Everyone had been fascinated at the thought of Lord Kim adopting an unknown son, one he flouted so willingly. From the King to the Stable Hands, there was not a person in the palace that did not know of Doyoung before his arrival. Lord Kim bragged endlessly about his son’s intelligence, his capability, his wide shoulders and strong sword arm. All Lords bragged about their children unless they had turned out to be complete humiliations, so it was not unexpected to find that on the day of Doyoung’s arrival, all of the courtiers were gathered in the main hall, fans to their faces, waiting for his arrival.

Even less of a surprise was their disappointment when a boy walked through the doors after his father, instead of a god. 

“He doesn’t look like Lord Kim said he would,” Mark said, frowning down as he peered over the stone ledge of the balcony. “I expected… more.”

“Everyone did,” Johnny murmured. That was not to say that Doyoung was ugly, or pathetically small, he was just… average. His eyes appeared slightly too large for his face, his hair too neat, his stance too tense. He looked like he had only just grown into his height and didn’t yet know how to wear his new size. “He’s nineteen?”

“That’s what Father said,” Mark replied. His frown deepened. “He barely looks older than me.”

Johnny agreed. Kim Doyoung wasn’t the hero his father had declared, but a boy with the body of a man, already overwhelmed by the hunger of the court. “He looks like he’s going to be eaten whole.”

“It’s good,” Mark said. At Johnny’s alarmed look, he pinkened. “Not that he’s scared. I mean that he isn’t what they expected. They’ll leave him alone if they don’t find him interesting, and that would be best, right? Better than living as Taeyong does, pawed at by the public and scorned.”

Johnny concurred. The only reason Taeyong had any peace at all was because he was the nephew of the King. If he were just another son of a Lord, he would have been ripped apart as soon as his beauty had blossomed. “You’re right as always,” he said to Mark, squeezing his shoulder. 

Mark grinned, charming. “I know,” he said. “Can we leave now? I need help with my aim, last time father took me hunting he said that he was disappointed by my archery.”

Johnny forced his expression into disapproval. “Your father would rather you were down there with him, greeting a new member of the court. He does not like you running free with the palace soldiers.”

Mark looked up at Johnny with big, earnest eyes. “But you don’t obey my father, do you? That’s not what you were brought here for.”

It was difficult to keep fighting his smile. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean,” Mark said, “That you listen to me. If I order you to take me outside and help me with my aim, you cannot refuse.”

Johnny lowered his head. Only then did he let his amusement show, his face aimed at their feet. Mark’s boots were polished beautifully, the jewels on them costing more than the home that Johnny had grown up in, but if possible Mark would have thrown each jewel from his window to land in the hand of a passing peasant. He had tried it before and had been beaten for the impudence. The wealth was his to wear, but not yet his to possess. “I do as you order, My Prince,” Johnny said. The petty concerns of the court were forgotten as Mark lead them out into the sun, his stride already steady enough to balance a crown.

  
-

  
Johnny had thought that Doyoung’s entrance would be the end of it. That as soon as the weather changed the courts would find a new toy to play with, a new pastime to occupy their fickle thoughts. 

Doyoung proved himself to be something of a disaster, however.

When the court went hunting, Doyoung fell from his horse.

When the men trained with their bows, Doyoung misfired and nearly killed a passing servant.

When they ate in the dining hall, the King and Prince present, Doyoung knocked his cutlery to the floor and silenced the chatter with the clang of precious metal against marble. 

He emerged from his father’s quarters with bruises on his cheek, stoic gaze always ahead, past the laugher and mockery. He seemed unfazed by the rancour that followed him from strangers and his adopted family alike, and after only a handful of weeks, Lord Kim went back to his own lands under the guise of caring for his aging mother, leaving Doyoung defenceless in the palace.

“It’s cruel,” Yuta mused. “But fitting, I suppose. Leave the disappointment in the place where his worth will be hardened or crushed. He will emerge from this a man or a corpse.”

They were watching Doyoung walk along the river, eyes in a book, as Mark shot arrows at the centre of a tree trunk with decreasing accuracy. Doyoung didn’t seem to be aware they were nearby, so wholly focused on the pages he was reading. His twin silver bracelets made a faint noise as he walked, carried on the wind like birdsong. 

“He doesn’t see us, does he?” Yuta continued. “So absorbed in himself that he does not notice the presence of the Prince.”

“He’d notice if you pushed him into the river,” Johnny said. 

Yuta laughed, but he made no move to get up from his spot at Mark’s back, instead turning his head back to face the palace. His sword was unsheathed, resting lightly against his thigh, and he was in one of the moods Johnny recognised as dangerous to those who chose wrongly in his presence. If someone were to attack Mark now, they would quickly come to regret it. Sometimes Yuta seemed to enjoy a threat more than he enjoyed the peace, and this was one such moment.

Johnny turned back to Doyoung, who had paused, still beside the river. He was frowning, his profile warm in the sunlight, as he looked at something in the water. He bent down and rolled up one sleeve, flashing his bracelets and thin wrist before plunging his hand into the water. It must have been cold, but he didn’t stop until his entire arm was submerged.

Even Mark had stopped shooting to watch. “What is he doing?”

“I don’t know,” Johnny said, staring. 

“Will you go over there and see if he needs help?” Mark asked. “Yuta will keep me safe in your absence, but if Lord Kim’s son drowns himself in front of me I will never inherit.”  
Inheriting was the least of Mark’s worries, and that was true in this case too. The way he looked at Doyoung wasn’t abstract, it was living concern. But he was a Prince, and he had learnt that the best way to stay strong was to make sure people could not easily see your weaknesses. A soft heart was a weakness, and for that reason Johnny said nothing as he headed to Doyoung, leaving Mark with a simple bow.

Doyoung looked up at his approach, frown still firmly in place. “Yes?”

“The Prince sent me to offer assistance,” Johnny said. “If you need it.”

Doyoung regarded him for a moment. “Your arms are longer than mine, yes?”

“Probably.”

Doyoung stood, shaking the water from his arm. “Good. Bend down and put your hand in the water. Do you see that small rock on the bank? I need you to pass it to me.”

Johnny did as he was told, confused but almost amused by Doyoung’s haughty tone. It seemed that however misplaced, he had quickly come to enjoy the privileges of being under Lord Kim’s name. Johnny played along, rolling up his sleeve and kneeling on the soft grass. The water was icy, having come down from the mountaintops, stinging the ends of his fingers as he searched for the rock Doyoung wanted. He traced the shapes of the riverbank until he felt something sharp but gritty, something that felt different to the mud and sand. He pulled it out and held it up for Doyoung to examine. “This?”

Doyoung took it into his hand and lifted the small stone to his eye. “Yes, this is what I wanted. Thank you.”

Johnny stood. “You’re welcome.” 

“Does it look strange to you?”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“This stone. I think it may be metal ore.”

“Ah.” Johnny peered at the stone, but it looked like anything else. It could have been ore, but he wouldn’t have known what signs to look for if it was. “I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you.”

Doyoung sighed, still staring at the stone. “I see. No matter.”

It was time to return to Mark, but for some reason, Johnny found that he couldn’t look away from Doyoung examining that piece of rock. There was something odd about Doyoung’s big eyes, something akin to the way a crow looked at loose button, polished and glinting in the sunlight.

Doyoung lifted his eyes and finally focused on Johnny. “Was there something else?”

“No,” Johnny said, almost flustered at being caught staring. “Unless you need something else?”

“I don’t need anything, thank you,” Doyoung said. “You can go back to the Prince now.” He pocketed the stone and reopened his book. “Tell him that if he raised his left elbow and released on the exhale his shots would be steadier.”

Johnny couldn’t help but laugh.

Doyoung glanced back at him expectantly. “Is something particularly funny?”

“I’m sure your heart is in the right place,” Johnny said. “But the Prince isn’t looking to shoot any unsuspecting servants. I believe he’s happy aiming at trees.”

“Oh.” Doyoung cocked his head, scrutinising Johnny for a moment. “As you wish, Guardsman. Forgive me for implying His Highness doesn’t have the perfect posture for aiming.”

“It is not your gall that insults,” Johnny said, still amused, “But your own lack of ability. I saw you with your bow last week.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t fancy myself in the position to guide the King on matters of the State, do I? Just as the Prince would not presume to advise you on how to fall from a horse.”

Doyoung reddened. “You are rude.”

“Really? I’ve been told that I’m charming.” Johnny found himself smiling. The blush suited Doyoung in a peculiar way. “Perhaps you are just fun to tease.”

Doyoung’s embarrassment morphed into a deep scowl, one that suited him even more than embarrassment. “You may leave me now.”

Johnny bowed. “As you wish. Take care, Lord Kim.”

It wasn’t until Johnny was walking back towards Mark that Doyoung replied. “I am not Lord Kim.”

Facing away, Johnny didn’t have to hide his smile, so he didn’t. “In your father’s absence from the court, you are indeed Lord Kim. In your father’s absence, you are whoever you wish to be.”

By the time he returned to Mark collecting his arrows, Doyoung was somewhere out of sight, having wandered off with his nose back in his book according to Yuta. 

Johnny regarded Mark a moment as he once more took aim at the tree. “Mark?”

“Yes?”

“Try raising your left elbow slightly and releasing on the edge of your exhale.”

Mark adjusted his posture and took a deep breath as he aimed his bow. He released just as he began to exhale, and hit the centre of the trunk perfectly. He turned to Johnny with round eyes. “Thank you! How did you know?”

Johnny stared at the arrow. “Doyoung suggested it.”

-

The following weeks were odd. Johnny found himself drawn to Doyoung, to teasing him until he was red and flustered or biting down one of his pretty wide smiles. Their time together was brief, but Johnny remembered each one as if it were hours. While he washed blood from his hands after another attempt on Mark’s life, it was Doyoung’s surprised, somewhat affronted laughter he thought of to calm himself, to fight off the tremor of his hands and the need to stand sleepless outside of Mark’s room for the rest of the night.

He had felt infatuation before, knew its ins and outs, but this was odd. He had never felt so drawn to someone so eccentric, someone so determined not to laugh at Johnny’s sad attempts at jokes.

-

“He’s watching you.”

Johnny ducked Sehun’s sword, laughing. “Don’t try and distract me.”

Another lunge parried. Somewhere behind them, Taeyong cheered. “I’m not trying to distract you.”

“You are.” Johnny grazed Sehun’s waist with the tip of his sword, but nothing heavy enough to do damage. 

“If you’re weak enough to be distracted by a Lord watching you practice from his window, then maybe you deserve to be beaten.”

Johnny couldn’t help but laugh as he sidestepped another lunge and Sehun stumbled over his own weight and the uneven cobbles of the stable yard. “If I am not distracted by Taeyong, what makes you think anyone else would have an impact?”

Sehun threw a stray carrot at Johnny, cackling madly when it bounced off his head. Their practice was quickly dissolving into boyish games as it always did. “Taeyong is untouchable, and even you respect that.” He threw another carrot, but this one Johnny batted away before it made contact with his forehead, smiling ruefully. “But a romp with the son of a Lord? It wouldn’t be your first.”

“I can hear you!” Taeyong called from where he was sat atop a bale of hay, legs crossed, chin resting on his hands. “And I don’t appreciate your tone, Sehun.”

Sehun paused his carrot assault to bow. “My apologies, Taeyong. I meant no offence to you, only to Johnny.”

Johnny followed suit, sheathing his sword, and bowing formally. “Apologies if Sehun offended you, Taeyong. You know he rarely thinks before he speaks.”

Taeyong cocked his head, considering, before he broke into a smile. “I will forgive you both on this occasion,” he said. “Because Doyoung is so closely watching.” His eyes darted upwards, somewhere behind Johnny, where presumably Doyoung could be seen. “As much as I hate siding with Sehun, he is right on this, Johnny. He is watching you avidly.”

Johnny shrugged, relaxed. “Why wouldn’t he?”

Taeyong laughed, a hand over his mouth, cheeks turning pink. It was astounding that he had managed to retain his gentle nature in such violent and malignant surroundings. He stood out like a tulip in the bloody aftermath of a battlefield. “You are simply too much. I don’t blame him for his interest, but perhaps I should try to dissuade him.”

“Have no fear, I’m not interested.”

Sehun looked back at Johnny, smirking. “Don’t lie to those who can see right through it.”

His eyes widened. “I am not lying!”

“You are. Maybe you’re lying to yourself too, but I’ve seen your eyes follow him through the halls. You are fascinated. Infatuated.”

“I am not.”

Sehun hummed. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” His eyes slid to Taeyong. “As the voice of authority in this spat, would you offer me your permission to court Lord Kim, Taeyong?”

Taeyong’s eyes widened. “It is not my… I mean, yes, you have my permission, but the decision is entirely between the two of you. It has nothing to do with me.”

“Sehun?” Johnny asked. “What are you doing?”

Sehun sheathed his sword. “I’m going to visit the library where Doyoung is watching us from and ask if he’d like to walk the gardens with me.”

“No, you’re not.”

Sehun raised an eyebrow. “I promise you, one of us is. Decide now if it will be you or me.”

Johnny’s gut twisted unpleasantly at the thought of Doyoung gazing at Sehun with his big, sloe coloured eyes. Sehun was a good man, a better friend, the best of the King’s guard, but that didn’t make the thought any more pleasant.

It must have shown on his face, for both Sehun and Taeyong laughed. “Go invite him for a walk, Johnny,” Sehun said, fond. “You don’t have much time to yourself, you mustn’t waste what little you have. Walk the gardens with the pretty boy while he’s still innocent enough to think you’re nice.”

“I _am_ nice.”

“You are,” Taeyong agreed. “So go be nice and ask Doyoung If he’d like to accompany you on a walk.”

He went, but not because they told them to. Not because he wanted to either though – he didn’t know why he went. It had nothing to do with Doyoung’s eyes, his slender neck, the way his hair fell across his forehead in delicate waves. 

He was alone in the library when Johnny arrived, still sat by the window overlooking the stables, a clothbound book resting open on his thighs. He turned to face Johnny, evidently surprised at his arrival.

Johnny offered a short bow. “Lord Kim.”

“Doyoung.”

“Lord Doyoung,” Johnny corrected. “I wondered if you’d care for a walk in the gardens with me.”

Doyoung examined him a moment, head cocked ever so slightly, moving the fall of his hair so that it fell into one eye. He blinked it away. “No thank you.”

Johnny stared, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“I’m quite content where I am, enjoying nothing but my own company and this book on precious stones.” He offered Johnny a bland smile. “You’re interrupting, actually, so if you don’t mind, I’d ask that you leave for your walk so that I can continue to read in peace.”

Johnny was lost. “I-“

“Are not used to rejection, I assume. Never mind, you will quickly adapt.” Doyoung raised his book. “Good day, Guardsman.”

Johnny turned on his heel and went back to the yard, repeating the events to Taeyong and Sehun, the latter of which who looked nothing short of gleeful at the news.

“What is more fun but a game of deliberation and persuasion?” he asked Johnny, clapping him on the shoulder. 

“Outright rejection is not a game, it is just rejection,” Johnny said, frowning.

Sehun was undeterred. “You’re right of course,” he said. “And yet he’s still watching you from the window.”

Johnny turned.

Doyoung was indeed looking down. He even had the gall to wave when he met Johnny’s eyes, offering a small, satisfied smile.

“Spar with me again,” Sehun said. “I’ll go easy on you so that you can display your strength. Give your Lord a real performance.”

Johnny pulled out his sword. “You have never once gone easy on me, and yet most of the time I win anyway. Don’t bother holding back now.”

Taeyong hummed, still atop his bale of hay. “Would you like me to keep score?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Not at all. No head or neck contact, okay? Let’s not turn this into another trip for sutures.”

Sehun pulled out his sword, grinning, as playful as a cub with the sharp teeth of its mother. “No promises.”

Johnny grinned back, just as intent. If he swung a little harder, moved a little faster, tripped Sehun with more intent, grazed his throat with the ease of an expert… well. It was because he wanted to test himself, not because of any other reason. 

“Young love is so unreasonable,” Taeyong murmured. “Hopefully with age you will mature.”

-

Prince Qian was as unlikable as his father, but Mark’s father seemed to enjoy their company anyway. With intelligence beyond his age, Mark did his utmost to avoid them both whenever they were visiting, preferring the company of the advisors they brought, the guards, servants.

Still, there were times that a Prince could not avoid socialising with his peers, and dinners were one of those times. It hurt Johnny to have to watch from the side-lines as Mark forced a smile to his face as he made conversation with the other Prince, so much older but so less knowing. He would make a terrible King, just as his father was, travelling to visit neighbouring friends while his people starved in the streets, while plague ravaged towns and cities indiscriminately. 

Both father and son stared at Taeyong with an intent that made Johnny’s blood run hot with anger.

Both father and son pushed and shoved servants and guards alike.

Both father and son threw food from their plates, laughing with their mouths open, food and drool down their faces. 

Both father and son made Mark so uncomfortable that despite his typically bubbly energy, he spent each mealtime subdued, picking at the food on his plate, barely eating, barely glancing up other than to check that Taeyong was still whole. 

What made it worse was that Johnny held no authority in those moments. He couldn’t take Mark somewhere and let him practice his archery, he couldn’t suggest Taeyong retire and then guide him to his rooms to let him weep in privacy. He couldn’t intervene, or it would become worse for everyone, and the King would likely have him killed. Johnny was important, yes, invaluable to Mark, yes, but not so important as to risk undermining the authority of the ruling monarch or his friends. 

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Kun asked, resting against the wall beside Johnny. “How so few can command so many?”

Kun was the only bearable member of the Qian family. A bastard, scorned from birth, he knew his father and elder brother’s most intimate faults, and whenever visiting was quick to find Johnny and discuss their mutual interest in stabbing them in the neck.

“Our King is not perfect, but what he does he does for the people’s sake,” Johnny murmured under his breath. He could not have anyone else hear his words, but Kun he trusted with his opinion. “Your father and brother do nothing for their people.”

“I know,” Kun said, tired. “You think I don’t? I have to watch as they throw away their money at intricate foods and expensive clothes while beggars scratch at the gates pleading for scraps. It is horrifying.”

“How do you manage?” Johnny asked. Kun was like Taeyong in many ways, if a little more weathered. He had seen some of the worst, but somehow he remained as kind as he always had been. Even when his mother was imprisoned. Even when she died, locked away. He had grieved, but his innate gentleness had remained intact.

“I simply hope that one day we will incite change,” Kun said. “Neither of them will ever succumb to the needs of the people, but maybe one day there will come a time when someone has the power to rise against them.”

It was dangerous talk, but no one was nearby. The guests were all drunk, raucous laughter drowning out their muted conversation. Across the room, Yuta’s eyes were fixed on Mark and Taeyong, watching them with dangerous intensity. If Johnny didn’t snap one of these days on their behalf, Yuta certainly would.

“Could it not be you?” he asked Kun quietly. “Could you not lead your people to a new age?”

Kun laughed. It was not a mocking sound, just amused. He was handsome in the low light, better looking than his brother, who resembled a wet loaf of bread. Kun had taken only the best of his father’s features, his strong brows, his jawline. The rest of his beauty must have been from his mother. “Johnny,” he said, exasperated and fond, “I am a bastard. I could never be king. My father would kill me before he let me consider it.”

Taeyong jolted in his chair, eyes darting to Prince Qian, who was saying something undoubtedly vulgar into Taeyong's ear, laughing snidely at Taeyong's discomfort.

Johnny set his jaw and felt as Yuta did the same. Mark looked at Taeyong with concern, a little fear, but Taeyong reassured him with a painful looking smile before staring straight ahead, polite mask resumed. 

“I think,” Johnny said, “When you consider how your country is faring, how the people suffer at the hands of your family, you should consider it your duty to ensure that only the best rule. You are the best, Kun. Fuck what people say to you about your blood, about your hierarchy. If a King allows his heir to act like a stray dog, then I say let the bastard wear the crown.”

“Johnny,” Kun said, sad. “I… I wish I could. I truly do.”

“Wishing does nothing,” Johnny replied. “I wish I could slit your brother’s throat making Taeyong so uncomfortable in his own home. I wish I could shield Mark from the unfairness of it all as I shield him from active threats. I wish that the bad people in this room didn’t outweigh the good. And yet, when you look around, nothing has changed because I wished it would. Life doesn’t change unless you move your feet in a different direction.”

“And you?” Kun asked. “What direction are your feet moving in?”

Johnny looked back to the table. “I go wherever Mark goes,” he said. “Always. Until I die.”

Kun smiled, no less sad than his frown. “I wonder what that kind of devotion feels like,” he mused. “To have someone believe in you so implicitly.”

“You will find it soon,” Johnny said, certain. “You are too good of a person not to.”

“And yet I am not permitted to sit at the table with my father and brother,” Kun said, softly.

“You have capable hands,” Johnny said, looking down. He had seen Kun’s archery, his easy fighting stance, his capabilities with a sword his care for the people that shunned him. He was always the first to use what he had to help those that needed it. His hands were callused, hard working. “Build a new table.”

-

They stayed another handful of days, just as disruptive and disrespectful. Mark and Taeyong hid themselves away for the most of it, Johnny and Yuta standing guard at all times. Kun stopped by when he could slip away from the watchful distain of his father, sitting with Taeyong to discuss gentle, calming topics such as local animals and the process of cooking certain dishes. They would have made a nice pair if Kun had not been a bastard. As things stood, the King would allow his nephew to marry someone without a true title. 

Doyoung was almost entirely absent for the length of the visit, which Johnny was pitifully thankful for. If Prince Qian had shown an interest, Doyoung’s quick tongue would have landed him in cuffs, on trial for treason. Either that or Johnny would have done something stupid to stop the Prince’s hands from touching Doyoung’s pearlescent skin. It was difficult enough protecting Mark and Taeyong without worrying about another – one he could not justify guarding. 

-

Doyoung remained absent for another week or so, passing Johnny only in brief, fleeting seconds as he walked from a room or was called to Taeyong’s side. He appeared trapped in tasks of his own making, spending whole afternoons beside the river’s edge, wading through the water, examining rocks. He seemed to have a real interest in stones, collecting them in a small wicker basket. Johnny saw him from windows as he followed Mark, a small spec of dark hair against the green, blue, and grey of the landscape. 

“He’s very peculiar,” Taeyong said one day during lunch with Mark. The two had decided to dine in the soldier’s barracks so that Johnny and Yuta could join them without worrying about formalities. “But knowledgeable. He reads more than anyone I have ever met.”

Mark shrugged. “You don’t have a fair comparison to make here. People care more for their clothes than anything else.”

But Taeyong was still frowning, staring at the barely touched food on his plate. “He makes me think that we have become complacent,” he murmured. “Do you not feel the shame of it? Watching the adopted son of a lesser Lord do more to educate himself than the entire populace of the palace.”

“Be careful,” Johnny warned as Yuta tensed. “Even in the barracks you don’t know who could be listening, Taeyong. Your uncle would not take lightly to your insinuations.”

“He cares not for me or what I say,” Taeyong muttered, though his cheeks reddened, eyes darting from the windows to the closed doors. “Though I could do without another punishment. My back still stings from the last one.”

“What happened?” Yuta asked. His expression was darkening, as Johnny knew his own was. Taeyong was treated like shit by everyone in the court, including the people that should have cared for him the most. If his parents were still alive they would have wept at his treatment. His mother would have killed her brother for the treatment of her precious child. 

“I invited Doyoung to my rooms so that he could show me what he is studying so intently, but some of Uncle’s guards intervened on our way there. Doyoung was sent to his own rooms and I was taken to Uncle, who berated me for allowing another man into my rooms, unaccompanied, on a dark evening.”

“What did he do?” Yuta asked, voice tight. 

Taeyong put his hands on his lap. “I don’t want to talk about this,” he said quietly. “Not with Mark.”

“It’s okay,” Mark said, putting one of his smaller hands atop of Taeyong’s. His eyes were big and earnest. “I know he can be cruel, especially when he is trying to teach a lesson. You can tell me.”

Taeyong looked away. “He had his men hit me with the scabbards of their swords,” he said quietly. “On my back. He said that it would make me think twice about laying myself out for the lords that show me attention.”

Mark’s eyes widened, though, to Johnny’s pride, his hand didn’t so much as twitch away from Taeyong. He kept strong, holding his cousin like he knew he should. So young, but so good. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Taeyong, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Taeyong said. He smiled at Mark, soft and sweet. “You will be a wonderful king one day Mark. We simply need to hold on until then.”

-

Johnny had an odd position at the court. It was widely known that he was the son of commoners, his father a shoemaker, his mother a seamstress. He was well below the status of even the palace servants, who had been born into their lineage of serving rulers. 

If not for Mark having chosen him as a child, Johnny would likely have been making shoes alongside his father, passing his mother cheap rolls of fabric to clothe the rest of their village.

Instead, he was here, guarding the dining table of the Crown Prince, drinking the finest wine from the finest glass, watching the finest of people ruin themselves in the name of debauchery. He owed Mark his everything, and he knew it. Mark knew it too, though he would never acknowledge it. If he had picked any other boy to be his guardian and friend, Johnny would have been rotting somewhere instead of helping drunken ministers to their rooms as the evening began to calm. 

He was still a commoner serving the higher classes, but he belonged entirely to Mark. He was outside of the status of the people, completely removed from the authority of others. Especially with the King having retired to his chambers early, there was no one to truly command him. He was untouchable.

He was untouchable, and he wasn’t afraid to use his position to intervene when, on his walk back from Minister Park’s quarters, he came across Doyoung pressed against a stained-glass window with a lecherous old man in bedraggled silks pressing closer. 

“You’re almost pretty enough to be my wife, and I miss her so dearly,” he was saying heavily, inching closer to Doyoung. “You wouldn’t want to upset someone of such high standing, would you?”

He was drunk. So perfectly drunk that when Johnny kicked him in the side he went straight down without the reflex to soften his fall, and thanks to the high shine of the marble floor, he slid a couple of feet away before he seemed to realise what had happened.

Still pressed against the window, Doyoung stared at Johnny with wide, unseeing eyes.

“I suggest you retire to your rooms, Lord Lee. If you stay out much longer you might take another tumble,” Johnny said, voice cheery despite the way he wanted to pick him back up and throw him through the colourful glass. “We wouldn’t want that, would we? I hate getting shit on my boots, but if I have to kick you again, so be it.”

He looked about to argue until his drunken gaze realised it was Johnny, and then his courage drained. “G-good evening,” he said, fumbling to his feet before scurrying down the hall in entirely the wrong direction for his rooms.

Once he was out of sight, Johnny turned to Doyoung. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t look alright. He looked shaken. Scared. “Please allow me to escort you to your rooms, Lord Kim.”

“I told you before that I am not Lord Kim,” Doyoung snapped. “My name is Doyoung.”

“Doyoung, then,” Johnny said, softening his voice further. He could do little to make himself shorter, but he relaxed his shoulders, doing his best to calm Doyoung’s palpable fear. “The palace is full of questionable types; it is not safe for someone like you. Allow me to walk you to your rooms.”

He raised his chin. “Someone like me?”

“Someone young. Someone pretty.”

“You are young. You are pretty.”

Johnny nodded. “And I’m carrying a sword and three knives. Are you?”

Doyoung reddened. “No.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No.”

“Have you been drinking?”

Doyoung’s red inched closer to burgundy. “Only a small amount.”

“Please let me escort you,” Johnny said. “It would, at the very least, put my mind at ease.”

“Did you not just tell me that the palace is full of questionable people? Why should I trust you, a man with a sword and three knives?”

He had Johnny there. “You have a quick tongue, but I don’t think it will protect you well, Doyoung. Not somewhere like this, where every tongue is sharp. You can return to your rooms without me if you wish, but you will likely see more Lord Lees en route.”

Doyoung lowered his head. After a moment of contemplating the floor, he muttered, “Fine. Take me to my rooms if you so wish.”

Johnny bowed. “After you.”

And so he begun the task of following Doyoung through the dimly lit halls and corridors, listening for the sound of foreign footsteps, the breathing of another who should not have been lurking. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he said the palace was dangerous for the young; many had fallen victim to the rabid dogs that tidied themselves into expensive fabrics and itchy wigs. 

“Should you not be with the Prince?” Doyoung asked, turning to a staircase. His hand on the banister was long and thin, his knuckles pronounced. Slender like the rest of him, not delicate but graceful. He had the bearing of an artist, not a lord or a soldier or a palace plaything. 

It took Johnny far too long to think of a reply. “Yuta is with him. Within the palace he only requires one of us due to the placement of the King’s various guards. Besides, he asked me to help the drunkards to their rooms.”

He couldn’t see Doyoung’s expression, but he could hear the smile in his voice. “Am I such a drunkard?”

“No,” Johnny said. “You’re a sweet diversion.”

“Sweet?”

“I would say so.”

Doyoung reached the top of the stairs and waited for Johnny to reach him before he continued walking, side by side this time. “I thought I was a foolish boy with little ability and too much ego?”

Johnny frowned, trying to tame his anger. “Who told you that?”

“Many people, including my father. In fact, not so long ago you implied it too.”

“I did not,” Johnny said, at a loss. Had his words been seen as such? “I may have teased you, but I promise I meant nothing deeper.”

“Are you admitting to being shallow?”

Doyoung’s eyes were beguiling. Even in this strained moment walking the night halls, their footsteps echoing off the marble, Johnny found it difficult to focus, which, in his line of work, was dangerous. Doyoung had the kind of eyes someone could fall into and never return from, a deep well with no escape, only cool water and unseen hands dragging you down. “I am only shallow when it comes to beautiful people.”

“I am not beautiful,” Doyoung said. He didn’t sound sad, or angry, just factual. Like he had grown up with a mother that hadn’t sung his praises as Johnny’s mother had. Like no one had ever given him a reason to question his certainty.

“I think you are.”

Doyoung smiled faintly. “No you don’t. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

“How do I look at you?”

“Like a new piece of furniture. A tapestry, maybe, hanging on the wall. You have no say over whether it is allowed to hang in sight, but even if you had authority you wouldn’t be sure if you wanted it there or not.” 

“I don’t see you as a tapestry,” Johnny said, utterly confused by the direction of Doyoung’s thoughts. Doyoung turned down a hall, Johnny following his lead. If he was truthful with himself, he hadn’t been impressed by Doyoung. In a way, he still wasn’t. But in this case, it was probably a good thing Doyoung hadn’t stood out. Things would have been so much worse for him if he had. “I see you as a young man that’s probably too clever for his own good and too vulnerable to survive long in the courts. This place is not well suited to eyes like yours, Doyoung.”

“So you pity me,” Doyoung murmured. “The ugly tapestry on the wall more suited to a humble shack, perhaps, instead of the King’s hall. That is the impression I give? How interesting.”

“No, Doyoung-“

Doyoung stopped walking. “We’ve reached my rooms. Thank you for accompanying me, Guardsman, but you may take your leave.” He smiled at Johnny, illusory. “I’m sure the Prince is needing of more protection than I.”

“Doyoung-“

“I said goodnight.” Doyoung pushed open his door, and when Johnny made no move to leave, he had the door closed in his face.

-

A handful of days later, Johnny awoke to find Yuta sat beside him, fully clothed and armed. “We have been summoned,” he said. “By the King.”

Outside of the window the sky was still dark. The King rarely glanced in the direction of Mark’s chosen guards – the fact that they had both been summoned spoke of something new. Something urgent. Johnny sat up, already reaching for his boots. “What for?”

Yuta’s expression was carefully neutral. “Someone unnamed has identified what appears to be deliberately placed deposits of thallium in the river. If the metals had been further upstream, we would all be dead from the poison.”

-

  
They were escorted to the throne room, where the King was waiting with Mark on one side, pale and scared, Taeyong on the other, tall, and expressionless as he stared at the ground.

“I’m sending Mark to the winter palace,” the King said. “Having my son in the same location means that if an attack succeeds, both the ruler and the heir are lost. You are both to go with him, to continue guarding him with your life, and to ensure he trains well enough to inherit the crown should the time come early.”

Both Johnny and Yuta bowed. “As you will it, Your Highness.”

Mark made a weak noise. “Father…”

The King didn’t so much as glance at his son. “Enough of that, Minhyung. A King does not beg, not even for his father. Am I understood?”

It broke Johnny’s heart to see Mark struggle to swallow back his grief and straighten his shoulders. “Yes, Father.”

The King looked at Johnny, meeting his stare boldly. “Keep him safe, Youngho,” he said. “If anything happens to Mark, I expect it to happen after the infiltrator has stepped over your corpse.”

Johnny bowed again, the lowest he could go. “I swear it, Your Highness.”

Yuta looked up, daring to meet the King’s eyes. “And Taeyong?” he asked.

Everyone tensed but the King, who looked nothing short of amused.

“Nakamoto Yuta,” he said. “I always knew you would be trouble. I am glad to be rid of you. Taeyong will be permitted to visit for two weeks each year if both he and Minhyung agree upon the dates. Other than that, he will remain here, with me and the rest of his family. He is no threat to the throne nor a prize for those who wish to take it.”

Johnny’s heart broke for the second time as Yuta made a fragile noise in the back of his throat. “Taeyong…”

Taeyong didn’t look up. “We all have our duties,” he said quietly. “I am content to fulfil mine.”

Yuta opened his mouth, but after a nudge from Johnny he closed it again, a muscle in his jaw twitching. 

“Taeyong is not the one at risk,” the King said. “He will be safe here.”

_We have become complacent…_

_Do you not feel the shame of it?_

The taste in the back of Johnny’s mouth felt a lot like shame. Anger, injustice, and a deep, burning shame. He had not done all that he could have to protect those he cared about.

Taeyong lifted his eyes and met Johnny’s gaze head on. “Have no fear,” he said softly. “I have a friend who will care for me in your absence. He is very clever, and he has promised to care for me.”

Doyoung.

Doyoung, with his fresh eyes and imposing difference.

Doyoung, with his hand in the river, peering at a stone with the focus of someone obsessed.

“Taeyong will never run out of men clambering to save him from something or another,” the King said. “So your concern is wasted. Go and pack your things, you leave before sunrise. Say your goodbyes while you can.”

Without any other option, and a last lingering look at Taeyong, both Johnny and Yuta bowed and left the hall.

-

Johnny entered his room to find his bags already packed neatly, Doyoung sat on the wooden chair in the corner with his hands crossed on his lap. He watched silently as Johnny sized him up, debating action for a long moment before he closed the door behind him and unarmed himself.

“I packed for you,” Doyoung said, somewhat needlessly.

“I can see that.”

He looked down. “I had to tell the King. The rocks I kept finding were handcrafted to look inconspicuous, but someone I used to know… he made me very aware that things that blend into the environment are typically more dangerous than those that stand out. Thallium is water soluble, did you know that? And the river flows fast. After only a handful of weeks the crust of the rocks would have eroded, and the thallium encased inside would have leaked into the water. I did not mean to make you or any of the other guards appear unconcerned or too self-contented, I just felt that he should know. Especially with Mark in the palace, with other children running through the halls.”

Johnny threw the remaining knife from his boot onto the bed. “I am not angry at you, Doyoung,” he said. “I am furious at myself and my own failings, but all I feel towards you is gratitude for seeing what I did not.”

Doyoung stood. He paced to the other side of the room, throwing open Johnny’s window to peer outside. After a moment he closed it again and turned back to Johnny. “Gratitude?”

“Yes.”

“Gratitude is all you feel towards me?”

“On this matter,” Johnny said. 

Doyoung cocked his head. “And on other matters?”

It felt like he was stood on an iced lake, cracks beginning to splinter beneath his feet. “What are you asking?”

“I know you’re experienced,” Doyoung said. He took a step closer, tipping his chin up to meet Johnny’s gaze. “I’m not.”

“Doyoung-“

“Don’t you want to?” He looked up with his big, dark eyes. “I want to know how to kiss someone. I want to know how it feels. I want to know what to do.”

“Why… why me?”

“Why not?” He smiled. “You’re handsome. You’re kind. You’re leaving. Why not you?”  
It was a terrible idea, and Johnny knew that.

But what did it matter? His life was dedicated to the protection of someone else. What did the state of his own heart mean? 

He threaded his hands into Doyoung’s inky hair, so dark it appeared almost blue. His eyelids fluttered at the hold, though his gaze held strong. Doyoung had a soft face, small, rosebud lips. While he hadn’t appeared handsome at first, he seemed beautiful to Johnny now. Unique in a way no one else could ever be, smarter than everyone else but so inexperienced he appeared oddly vulnerable. 

Johnny didn’t want to leave him. He wanted to know how Doyoung would age from nineteen to twenty, to twenty one, to older, wiser. He wanted to know if given the chance they would have aged together. At twenty, Johnny knew he had a lot left to learn. In another world, perhaps they could have taught each other. 

“Do you want to?” Doyoung whispered. “I want you to, Johnny. Kiss me.”

So he did.

Doyoung was clumsy at first, just like he had been holding a bow, riding a horse. His lips stay closed, tight, unyielding. Its obvious he’s inexperienced, not sure how to enjoy it yet.

But there was no point in a kiss if both people weren’t enjoying it. 

Johnny slid one of the hands from Doyoung’s hair down to grab his waist gently, finding it even slimmer than it had appeared in his tailored court jackets, finding him malleable, eager to be pulled closer as Johnny pressed another kiss to his lips, softer than the first, then another, testing the waters. He opened his eyes to find Doyoung still staring up at him. His cheeks were pink, his gaze challenging.

“It doesn’t feel as good as people said it would,” he said.

Johnny laughed, despite his heavy heart. “You aren’t joining in,” he said. “It’s a two player sport, Doyoung.”

“Oh.” Doyoung glanced down at Johnny’s lips, then back to his eyes. “Can we try again?”

He should have said no, but he felt weak. He couldn’t say no to Doyoung. He could tease him, rile him, anger him – but he couldn’t say no. “Yes,” he said. His grip on Doyoung’s waist tightened. “When you feel comfortable, open your mouth a little.”

Doyoung nodded, determined, and Johnny took it as a sign to bend down, pressing their mouths together once more.

It came more naturally this time, Doyoung’s lips as receptive as the sway of his body. When Johnny kissed him, he tentatively kissed back, uncertain but willing. When Johnny pulled back slightly breathe, Doyoung followed, slotting their lips back together, warm and damp. His arms came up to encircle Johnny’s neck, and Johnny felt the exact moment his body won out over his mind. He sighed, heavy and heady, and parted his lips.

He was so tentative that it almost drove Johnny insane. He felt like he was holding something precious in his hands, something too good to be caressed by his hands, his lips, his tongue. But he couldn’t stop, not with the noises Doyoung was making as he licked the roof of Johnny’s mouth, quiet and desperate. Johnny grunted when Doyoung slipped a hand from his neck into his hair and pulled, and Doyoung seemed to gain confidence from the control he had gained, pressing closer, nipping at Johnny’s lower lip, moaning unexpectedly wantonly when Johnny pressed back fighting for control.

“Do you like it now?” Johnny asked.

Doyoung nodded, eyes screwed shut, cheeks a deep red, flustered and so gorgeous it hurt Johnny all the way to his stomach. “Kiss me again,” Doyoung said, breathless but commanding. “Again.”  
So Johnny did. He kissed Doyoung until his heart was pounding sluggishly, until he knew he was out of time. He savoured it all; Doyoung’s taste, his delicate lilac scent, the surprisingly strong grip of his slender fingers, the petal soft texture of his skin, his damp lips, his hot breath and starry eyes.

And then he pulled back. “I have to go.”

Doyoung’s eyes opened slowly. He nodded, still flushed, and licked his lips. “I know.”

Did he know Johnny didn’t want to leave? He must have known. Johnny stroked Doyoung’s warm cheek with his thumb. “Take care of Taeyong.”

“I will.” He smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his dark eyes. “It might be a while before we meet again. I wonder if you’ll remember me as I am now. As I am with you.”

“How could you ask something like that?” Johnny asked. “Of course I’ll remember you.”

Doyoung hummed. He looked away, reaching for Johnny’s bag before passing it over. “My first kiss. I can see why the servant’s lust after you as you pass in your armour. Guard of the Crown Prince with the tongue of a whore.” He smiled faintly. “How many hearts will break when the court realises you have left? Hundreds, no doubt. At least I had the self-preservation to stay away.”

The thought that Doyoung wouldn’t miss Johnny hurt, but he was almost entirely convinced it was bluster. Doyoung was factual, plain speaking, but beneath that he was gentle. “The self-preservation to stay away?” Johnny asked. “You kissed me.”

“I needed to learn,” Doyoung said. He passed Johnny his sword, still smiling, though the expression rang hollow. “Thank you for making the memory a pleasant one.”

He walked past Johnny, closing the door softly. 

Johnny stood there, alone. He knew that if it were anyone else, he would have been offended, affronted at the attitude. He knew that after everything, he deserved at least a real goodbye. In an odd way, he almost wanted to pretend that it was another one of Doyoung’s games, that he had reeled Johnny close only to throw him back into the water again. He wished it were so, but the way Doyoung’s shoulders had tensed as he’d left, the way he’d steeled himself for stepping outside of the room told Johnny that whatever game he was playing had only just begun, and it more closely resembled a war.

-

The winter palace, despite its name, was not much of a palace at all. It was a large manor, mostly in ruins, with only a handful of liveable rooms that hadn’t yet been reclaimed by the nearby forests. During his service, Johnny had only seen the palace twice, and both times were fleeting, cursory visits. He did not expect, that after two days of travelling, he would find it populated almost entirely by fresh faced soldiers and guards that fell to their knees at the sight of Mark’s approach.

“Feels like the King’s been waiting for this,” Yuta muttered from his horse. “No wonder he never has the courts visit if he’s strengthening his army in secret.”

Mark’s eyes were dull as they took in his surroundings. He had barely slept, but it seemed that since they had left the palace he had aged years rather than days. “Another secret. I wish I were surprised.”

Johnny put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “It’s a secret he’s shown you rather than told you. You’re a prince Mark, and you’ve just been stationed with the bulk of your kingdom’s army. It sounds to me like your father has an awful lot of trust in you building a relationship with these men you’ll soon be leading.”

A guard approached, young and handsome and full of admiration as he knelt, hand over his heart. “My Prince,” he said to Mark. “It is an honour to have you here with us.”

Mark jumped from his horse, shoving a hand out for the guard to shake, uncaring that it flustered everyone within the vicinity. Johnny hid his smile. Mark’s odd charm would never leave him. The King had lost fifteen years trying to teach Mark to be cold to those lesser than him, and he had failed. If Mark wanted to shake the hand of a soldier, no one here had the authority to stop him. 

The guard shook Mark’s hand hesitantly, head bowed. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Thank you,” Mark said, smiling. It was a genuine expression this time, the sun appearing from behind heavy clouds. “I hope I can do the same for you all. I am not here to impose myself; I just want to learn.”

The guard reddened, his cheeks dimpling. The ground must have been very fascinating from the way he was staring at it with such intention. 

Johnny put him out of his misery. “I’m Johnny, and this is Yuta. We’re the Prince’s personal guards and companions. We look forward to working with you.”

Finally, he looked up. His eyes were a pretty brown, his face handsome. “I’m Jaehyun,” he said. “It is an honour to work with you.”

Yuta laughed. “You say that now, but you haven’t seen Johnny with a hangover. He’s weaker than a new-born kitten.”

Johnny nodded amicably. “There will be times that you may have to nurse me, but I’ll do the same for you. I hope this is a place where we can all come to care for each other.” Mark looked up at him, so Johnny sent him a reassuring smile. Johnny squeezed his shoulder again. “Right?”

Mark nodded, determination setting in the brackets of his mouth. “Right.”

-

A handful of weeks ago, Johnny would never have thought he’d be given the chance to see Mark dressed in common garb, buying fresh fruit from a farmer’s stall in the middle of a crowded, dusty village. He threw Johnny an apple, grinning from ear to ear as Yuta and Mingyu lead him through the crowds, Johnny following behind, keeping watch.

It was beautiful. It was more beautiful than anything Johnny had ever seen. Mark running free in the forest, laughing wildly as he was chased by the blacksmith’s son, eating fruit that was so juicy it dribbled down his chin as his nose burnt from the sun and dirt stuck to his sweaty forehead. He had never looked so normal, so happy. 

He looked content, and all it had taken was removing him from everything he had ever known.

“Do you miss the palace?” Jaehyun asked. “The King and the courts?”

“No,” Johnny said, though his true feelings were not so simple. He missed Taeyong dearly, and his fellow guards. He missed glancing at Doyoung’s passing profile in a crowded hall, the way their eyes would meet. Doyoung rarely smiled, but when he did it seemed entirely for Johnny. 

“Most of the people here dream of working in the palace,” Jaehyun said. He walked with his shoulders straight, his hands behind his back, clasped together loosely. He was a kind man with a handful of peculiar habits, but Johnny was glad to know him now.

“It is hard to imagine the rigidity of the hierarchy,” Johnny said carefully. “Mark has never cared for his title or his role, despite how much the King tried to force it into him. The palace is a maze of pretty masks, where only a handful of the people behind are as becoming on the inside as they are on the outside. Money and power consumes them all.”

“How has the Prince stayed so…”

“Innocent?” Johnny offered. At Jaehyun’s nod, he smiled. “Mark isn’t as innocent as he looks, but he is much too good for the environment he grew up in. We all have his cousin to thank for that.”

“His cousin?”

“Taeyong.”

“I have never heard of him.”

It soured Johnny’s mood. “Most people haven’t. The Queen died young, and Taeyong was the one who took to raising Mark in her absence. He is the son of the King’s late sister – raised in a small house at the edge of the kingdom, which is probably the reason he is as kind as he is. He was brought into the palace only once Mark was born and in need of a parent.”

“There must be some good people in the palace.”

“There are,” Johnny agreed. “The problem being that they are vastly outweighed by the bad.”

“And when Mark is king?” Jaehyun asked. The clouds ahead spoke of summer rain, but Johnny could hear Mark’s laughter still, see his bright smile. “What will happen when Mark is crowned?”

“War, I think,” Johnny said. “Which is why we strengthen him here. The closer he is to humanity now, the more of it he will retain when he is crowned.”

-

It took three years to realise that Taeyong would not ever be visiting. It took three years of Mark waiting by the windows for any sign of a letter, any sign of a carriage. It took a written plea to the king and a terse reply for Mark to realise that it was not Taeyong’s choice that he was not visiting, but the demand of the King. He had found use for Taeyong in the courts, after so many years of throwing him aside, and now deemed him too valuable to holiday with his cousin.   
  
It took another year for Mark to harden his shell and hide his hurt that the only correspondence he was permitted was a letter detailing the health of his father each month.

“I don’t care anymore,” Mark said on his nineteenth birthday, jaw set stubbornly. He was sat with Johnny on one side Yuta on the other as they shared bread while watching the sunset. “I have you, and you’re the family I chose.”

Johnny did his best to ignore the way Yuta welled up, passing them both more bread. “That’s right,” he said. “And you know what? Jaehyun only told you he had training this evening because he wanted to stay at the house and bake you a cake.”

Mark’s big eyes were full of planets and stars when he smiled. “I know a prince shouldn’t say this,” he said. “But I love you. I love you all so much.”

Yuta kissed his forehead. “Fuck what a prince should do,” he said. “You’ll be a king soon, and then no one can tell you what you can and can’t do.”

-

It took another year for Yuta’s words to prove true, for Mark to receive a final letter summoning him back to the palace.

He stared down at the paper with unseeing eyes. “Father is dead,” he said. “He… was attacked while hunting. Taeyong has been crowned Regent until I am considered ready to inherit, and I am to come back to the palace immediately so that I can begin learning the legislation.”

Without hesitation Johnny gathered Mark into his arms and held him tight. Mark didn’t cry. He remained white faced and wide eyed, entirely uncomprehending. As much as the had joked that he would inherit, they had not expected it to be at twenty years old, barely out of boyhood. He had not expected to wear the crown still being cleaned after his father’s murder. 

“I’m scared,” Mark mumbled into Johnny’s shoulder. He was shaking slightly, a fine tremor. “I know I shouldn’t be. Should I? I don’t know anymore.”

Yuta, done skimming over the letter, met Johnny’s eyes above Mark’s head. “The assassins were killed by the royal guard, so there should be no real threat to returning.”

“You don’t look or sound convinced,” Johnny said softly. 

Yuta winced. “The letter doesn’t sound convinced,” he said. “Doyoung seems to think that during the transitory period the threat level will be much higher, that Mark needs to come home in secret.”

“Doyoung?” Johnny asked. They had not spoken of him for years. “He wrote the letter?”

Yuta nodded. “It seems that shortly after we left he was named the King’s Advisor, and Taeyong has kept him in his position.”

It was a disconcerting image, but Johnny didn’t have time to focus on it while he was holding Mark together. “We will pack your things and leave this evening,” he said quietly. “Okay?”

Mark nodded. “Is Jaehyun coming too?”

“You are King now,” Yuta said quietly. “If you want Jaehyun with you, he will come.”

-

Sehun met them at the back gate of the palace grounds. He looked weathered, still handsome, but tired. On edge.

He bowed to Mark. “My King.”

Mark laughed nervously. “Sehun. You look well.”

He simply nodded. “We are making your entrance a private affair due to the threat level, I hope you understand.”

Mark nodded. “Is Taeyong aware?”

“He’s waiting for you in your rooms.” Sehun’s expression softened slightly. “He has missed you terribly.”

Mark looked down. “I’ve missed him too,” he murmured.

Torch lighting their way, Sehun led them through the grounds to the servants’ entrance of the palace. “Taeyong will see you tonight but has asked that you rest well and ready yourself early in the morning. Meetings will begin at dawn. King Qian is intent on using the time without public knowledge of your return to the best of his ability.”

Johnny’s head snapped up. “King Qian?”

Sehun glanced at him. “Kun.”

“Holy shit,” Yuta said. “I knew he was crowned, but I never thought…”

“He would last?” Sehun grinned. “Most people didn’t think he would survive a week, but it turns out that he’s the best thing to happen to that country in decades. His advisor is a fiery one though, watch him carefully.”

“Speaking of advisors,” Johnny said. “Doyoung?”

Sehun’s smile fell. “He is not as you remember,” he said. “He’s no boy following you with wide eyes and a smitten blush.”

“I would not expect it,” Johnny said with a frown as they entered the kitchens. “Five years is a long time.”

Sehun simply shrugged, looking away. He came to a stop as soon as he entered the dining hall, forcing everyone behind him to stumble to a halt. “Doyoung…” he said. “Ten. You are waiting for us?”

“Taeyong wishes to see Mark alone,” Doyoung said, his voice smooth. “No one else.”

Yuta glanced at Johnny, mouth curling not in amusement but suspicion. 

“But I am King,” Mark said. His voice was quiet, completely lacking in authority, but Johnny almost burst with pride from the fact that he had spoken. Yuta looked much the same. “I won’t go without Johnny and Yuta.”

“Take them then,” Doyoung said. “But they will wait at the door with everyone else.”

Yuta’s hackles rose. He stepped out from behind Sehun. “Who put you in charge of your King?”

“You’re fighting the wrong battle here,” Ten said, the only unfamiliar voice. He sounded amused. “The point of this was subtlety, but you’re all ruining it. Doyoung darling, how on earth do you plan anything here when the staff are so belligerent?”

Johnny felt his own lip begin to curl. He stepped beside Yuta. “Do not speak like that in front of the King.”

Ten was smaller than Johnny had expected for such a loud, egotistical voice. He looked like something rich and mythical, dripping in honey and venom. Beside him Doyoung was almost unrecognisable. Tall, slim, and so beautiful he looked impossible. Not only had he grown into himself, but he had grown into something new, something entirely unknown. His eyes were flat and cold as they regarded Johnny. 

“Ten is right,” he said. “You are fighting the wrong battle. If you want to stay with the King, then do so, but lower your voice and walk quietly. There are eyes and ears all over the palace, and if you haven’t already ruined the secrecy you certainly will with your stomping.”

Ten smiled, smug. “As he said.”

Sehun looked between the two parties, uncertain. The authority had shifted in a way none had experienced before, and no one knew quite who to defer to. Taeyong, the Regent, or Mark, now King. 

“I will take you all to the chambers where Taeyong and King Qian wait,” he said uneasily. He bowed to Mark. “If you would follow me once more, My King.”

Mark nodded, and as he started walking, so did Yuta and Jaehyun. As always, Johnny hung back, taking the rear.

A handful of rooms later, Ten settled beside him, matching his stride. He looked Johnny up and down, smiling prettily. “Big,” he said.

Johnny tried not to twitch. “If you say so, Sir,” he said, staring ahead. Doyoung was wearing browns and greens. If it were anyone else, they would look ridiculous, but the emerald silk made Doyoung glow. He looked so beautiful, but so cold. 

Ten followed his gaze. “It is good to be reunited,” he said. “The last time I saw Doyoung we were eighteen, and I’ve missed him dearly.” His smile widened. “Six years gone, and he has not changed at all.”

The man Johnny saw was unrecognisable. “You think?” he murmured. “To me he has changed a lot.”

Ten laughed, the sound like tiny pieces of shattered glass hitting silver. “Darling,” he said, eyes bright, “If you think he has changed, he has not. Doyoung has a need for knowledge unlike anyone else, which is why he played my games so well. Behind his pretty eyes is greed unlike anything I have ever known.” His smile widened, warping, taunting and gorgeous. “I would suggest that you never truly knew him at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!!! love to you all xo


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